Harry woke himself up screaming.
He fell silent as soon as he came to his senses, scrambling to sit up in bed and gathering the thick comforter around his shaking body. The ear-splitting sound of his own scream still rang on a constant loop in his ears, like a screeching telephone that no one wanted to answer.
He could only pray that he hadn't woken Louis up -- he was positive that the older boy would kick him out. They had only just met and made a tiny bit of progress in their relationship, and Harry was already ruining everything.
Stupid fucking voices. Stupid fucking cemetery.
The darkness in the bedroom was suffocating, even with thin traces of moonlight creeping across the floor. Harry buried himself in the messy tangle of sheets and blankets, huddling even further back against the wall. The huge window across the room taunted him, a shadowy reminder of the cemetery just a few stories down -- a far drop from the top floor, but not nearly far enough.
Much to Harry's surprise, Louis appeared in the doorway just a few moments later, his blue eyes shining with concern. He gripped the door handle tightly as he surveyed the room, making sure that Harry wasn't physically hurt. His hair was tousled and unruly from sleeping, his voice low and raspy when he asked, "Alright?"
Harry just nodded silently, his heart sinking. He folded his long legs to his chest in a useless attempt to cover up his trembling body. Louis didn't seem at all convinced.
"Come on," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the living room -- and the front door.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, praying that he had fallen into another nightmare. He had only just found his way to Louis, and now his soulmate was about to kick him out after only a few hours.
Louis's tone was hushed and comforting. "We can watch another episode of Friends. It'll take your mind off of your dream so that you can go back to sleep."
His eyes flew open, surprise and relief washing over him in tsunami waves. Louis gave him an odd look, one eyebrow quirked as he waited for an answer to his suggestion.
Still quivering slightly, Harry shook his head in silent complicity. He gathered his thin blanket more securely around his shoulders before climbing out of bed and obediently following the older boy into the living room.
Louis had already taken a place on the couch when Harry entered the room, his blanket trailing on the floor behind him, forming a flowy cape. He immediately sensed Harry's uncertainty, so he patted the spot beside him encouragingly.
Harry padded across the room without a sound, climbing onto the couch and not bothering to leave enough space between them. The feeling of their thighs pressed together was unfamiliar, and electricity hummed between them at just the simple touch.
"I'm really sorry," the curly-haired boy whispered as Louis turned on the TV. His words were barely audible, and Louis only caught them because they were so close together on the couch.
"What for?" he wondered, selecting the episode where they had left off earlier. He set the volume pretty low, hoping that Harry would want to talk, but kept it loud enough to combat the stifling silence that blanketed the city at night.
Harry tucked the thick covers up under his chin, wrapping himself up so that only his head was still visible. "I don't know. I'm sorry I woke you up."
Louis found the action much more endearing than he should have.
"Don't apologize," he replied, his tone smooth and unphased. "I'm just surprised, honestly."
Harry frowned, his brow creasing in confusion. "Surprised?"
Louis hummed his confirmation, thinking out loud: "You act very confident, do you know that? Bold, or . . . courageous, even, like you don't have a care in the world."
With a snort, Harry shook his head, curling further into himself. "I'm not."
The older boy continued as if Harry hadn't said anything. "Yeah, you come across as quiet, but you still stand out. You have this glow about you, like some sort of charisma -- you don't even have to say anything, and people seem drawn to you."
Harry sank further back into the couch, the combination of the comforter and the poofy cushions nearly swallowing him whole. "I'm scared of almost everything."
Louis paused, studying the younger boy's side profile carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, clarifying after a moment, "Your dream, I mean."
Harry shook his head again, biting down on his bottom lip. His curls fell over his face, draping over his forehead and brushing the sides of his cheeks. Louis had a strong urge to brush them back into place, but he resisted.
"Why not? You'll feel better after," he encouraged, nudging Harry's shoulder with his own.
"You'll think I'm a freak."
"I already do," Louis teased. Even his playful tone was soft and hushed, careful not to disturb the delicate sense of safety floating between them. "Seriously, Harry. I don't mind."
Harry fell silent, chewing hard on his bottom lip. His gaze was trained on the floor in front of the couch, and his eyes were wide and unfocused as he pondered his options. And his biggest fears -- that if he told Louis the truth, he would be back on the streets in the blink of an eye.
And, even worse than being back out in the cold, he would be away from Louis.
Louis cleared his throat awkwardly, tearing Harry from his terrifying thoughts. "I didn't mean to offend you." The older boy had a nervous expression on his face. "I didn't mean . . . I don't --"
"Louis, breathe. I'm not upset," Harry laughed, patting Louis's knee reassuringly. The laughter was clearly forced. "I just don't want to talk about it, if that's okay."
"Of course," Louis rushed out. Heat crept across his cheeks, though, and he hoped Harry didn't notice; as stupid as it sounded, it hurt knowing that Harry didn't trust him.
Not that he had any reason to considering the fact that they barely knew each other, but he did tell Louis he loved him. The whiplash and mixed signals had Louis's head spinning.
He turned on the next episode of Friends and shifted a bit closer to Harry, their bodies pressed together, side by side. The curly-haired boy was still wrapped in his blankets, tucked around his huddled body like a protective shield.
Louis couldn't help wondering what he was trying to protect himself from.
The sound of the TV drowned out the voices pretty well. But somehow, being next to Louis made everything else fade into background noise, even with how close they were to the graveyard. Sure, Harry wished that Louis's flat didn't have a cemetery as its backyard -- the voices wouldn't be nearly as intrusive -- but he figured that he could build a house directly on top of a mass grave if he had Louis living with him.
"I like Rachel," Harry mumbled sleepily, his head lulling sideways against the back of the couch. "She's pretty and she's funny and . . . I don't know. I like her."
Louis stifled a laugh, nodding encouragingly as the younger boy rambled. "Honestly, I pegged you as more of a Ross type of guy."
"He's very cute. But she's so pretty," the sleepy boy admitted, his tone almost wistful. He turned his head to look at Louis, his earnest eyes boring into the older boy's skin. "Don't worry. You're prettier. Much, much prettier."
Louis pretended not to hear.
Before he knew it, Harry had fallen asleep on his shoulder. The curly-haired boy looked almost unnaturally peaceful when he was sleeping, his pillowy lips parted slightly and tiny puffs of air escaping from between them. His dark eyelashes fluttered against his pale cheeks, and Louis found himself wondering if Harry ever truly slept soundly -- or if something always haunted him.
As if on cue, Harry twitched in his sleep, instinctively curling further into Louis's side. "No, no, please . . . no, no, no," he muttered. He shuddered, his face contorting, his nose scrunching up as if he were in real, physical pain.
"Hey," Louis said softly. He shook the sleeping boy gently, but firmly enough to rouse him from his dream. "Hey, wake up. It's just a dream."
Harry jolted awake, his eyes flying open and his body stiffening. Louis caught the mesmerizing green even in the dimly-lit room, the only light coming from the TV screen and the moon hanging in the black sky outside the window.
"You okay?" he asked dumbly, feeling more than a little useless.
He definitely wasn't expecting Harry to promptly burst into tears.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck, please don't cry," Louis pleaded, panic washing over him. He reached out for Harry, then stopped, retracting his hands and folding them awkwardly into his lap.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Harry was repeating over and over again. He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe this is happening, god, I can't --"
Louis had had enough. "Hey, hey, it's alright. Don't apologize, love, it's completely alright." He reached for Harry again, and this time, he let his instincts take full control. He pulled a trembling Harry partway into his lap, tucking the younger boy's head under his chin.
"I-I'm sorry," Harry stammered out again, his fingers falling from his face to wrap around Louis's upper arm, holding tight.
"Shh, shh. You're okay. You're alright," Louis cooed, carding his fingers through the younger boy's hair. He didn't quite know how to comfort Harry when he wasn't even sure what he was upset about, but he tried his very best. "It's not like you can control it. Didn't do it on purpose."
Harry pushed away from Louis's chest suddenly, sitting up in his lap. He shoved his fists into his eyes, rubbing hard as he tried to forcefully stop his tears. "This is so embarrassing," he whined, although his frustration sounded more like shyness.
He hiccuped softly as shaky sobs continued to shudder through his body, covering his face with his hands. Louis shushed him again, one hand resting heavily on his hips while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back.
"You've been so, so lovely, and you taught me about Friends and I-I didn't even mean to fall asleep on you!" Harry rambled on, bordering on hysterical. "I was just s-so tired and you're warm and . . . i-it's just so warm here, and your apartment is so lovely, and I-I just --"
"Oh, shh. Shh, come on, petal," Louis murmured quietly, anchoring Harry back against his chest, grounding him back in reality as his emotional outburst disintegrated into the heavy air around them. "It's just me, love. Nothing to worry about, no worries at all. I've got you."
After another sniffle or two, Harry finally accepted the comfort of Louis's arms wrapped around him, burying his face in the older boy's neck and clinging to his torso like his life depended on it. He exhaled shakily, his warm breath spreading across Louis's skin like a wildfire set loose, raising heated goosebumps on the back of his neck.
"There you go, love," he praised softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He knew he was rambling, but it seemed to calm Harry down, so he kept speaking even when the words didn't make much sense anymore. "I've got you now. Nothing can touch you here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Louis barely caught Harry's mumbled response: "I know."
They both fell asleep on the couch, still tangled up in each other. Harry's body ended up pressed securely between Louis's side and the back of the couch, and Louis's arm stayed protectively wrapped around his waist even in sleep. His head rested on the older boy's chest, a perfect fit in the dip between Louis's neck and his shoulder. With tear-stained cheeks and itchy eyes, Harry drifted off to the soothing rhythm of a thudding heartbeat, drumming steadily in sync with his own.
And maybe Louis felt a bit more protective of Harry after that night, but he surely didn't love him.